Go—
you’ve threatened it enough,
wielded it like a weapon,
a hollow ultimatum,
and I’m done.
I’m tired of crafting excuses,
reasons to tether you here,
tired of walking on the tightrope
of your fragile pride,
only to find I’ve worn my own soul thin.

I’m exhausted.
Every word feels like a mine,
carefully placed but always ready
to trigger one of your theatrical storms.
Go—
if leaving has always been your escape plan.
Let me step off this dizzying carousel,
this ride of volatile highs and crushing lows.
I no longer know what awaits me with you—
sunshine and sweet laughter?
Or the sharp claws of guilt and despair?

I’ve bent myself backwards, sideways,
into shapes that don’t belong to me,
trying to fit the version of myself
that you needed me to be.
Now, I’m lost,
a stranger in my own skin.

Go—
find your joy wherever you may.
I am done painting skies
with colors I no longer see,
done chasing fleeting light,
done trying to build you golden castles
from the rubble of my dreams.

From now on,
I’ll guard my own heart,
I’ll stitch together my own dreams,
I’ll tend to my own wounds.

Go—
and leave me to remember
what it feels like
to be whole again.